Faith
by Ravinae
Summary: How can you be a hero when you don't even have faith in yourself? Well, for starters, you get pushed into it against your will. Riley is the furthest thing from a hero when she gets pulled to Wonderland, but the Wonderlanders are all counting on her. She's going to be a hero whether she wants to be or not. Accepting OC's since it's an OC central story.


They diagnosed it as Schizophrenia. All the little things I had seen were just a part of a chemical quirk in my brain. It was cute and adorable when I was younger. _She has such a wonderful imagination_, they said. _She could be a novelist when she grows up_, they assured my mom. They didn't actually mean anything they said. An active imagination was only respected by art teachers and certain parents. My parents didn't have that certainty.

I was thirteen when they brought me to the 'doctor's office. The old lady in the pencil skirt with the blade sharp nose had talked to me about my friends. I told her of the snaggle-toothed ferret in the tiny vest, of the fairies with hummingbird feathers and butterfly wings. I told her how we used to have picnics in the backyard before my parents called me in.

She asked me how often I had seen them recently. I lied and told her not often. I fed her stories of how the fairies had to go back to the Home Tree and take care of their king and how the animals with dapper clothes didn't want to play in the mud anymore. I was in middle school. I didn't want some old lady laughing at me because I saw things others didn't.

I'm pretty sure she knew I was feeding her lies. The week after my visit with her I had to accompany my mother to the drug store for these little white pills that she insisted were vitamins. I knew they were for my 'imagination'. I knew they were supposed to make my friends go away, but I took them anyway. Part of being a kid with a roof over your head was just doing what was asked.

They didn't help, the drugs. If anything, they made things clearer. The fairies I had trouble seeing in the flowers stuck out like sore thumbs. I caught the colorful flashes of cloth on animals running past every other day. It might have been because I was more conscious of how crazy my sights seemed to others. I didn't understand why everyone I met couldn't see them, but I didn't push. If they couldn't see them, I wouldn't make myself seem crazier by telling them about the wispy spirits playing with their hair.

Eventually I started to believe I really was Schizophrenic. Seeing fairies, spirits and clothed animals was something that I wanted to block out, to rid myself of. The spirits and fairies were nothing but hallucinations. Animals did not wear clothes or shoes. I had tricked myself into seeing them as a child and now I had to take care of it.

As I finally convinced myself they weren't real, they started to just fade away. The fairies lost interest in me. The spirits felt I was being boring and left to mess with more reactive targets. The animals in waistcoats and shiny shoes all just faded away like they weren't even there in the first place. So, believe it or not, I was normal for a short amount of time.

But then my parents died. They were driving home and hit a patch of ice. Not only did they skid, but they hit dry pavement at the worst possible angle, sending them bottoms up and down into a snow filled ditch. Both died due to blunt force trauma. Neither had even been thrown from the car. I had gone to school the next day like nothing had happened. I was used to them working late and not coming home until early the next morning. I figured they were tired and wouldn't want me to wake them.

When I heard the news I was in fifth hour, Government. My gran called the school and told them she would be picking me up. She told me as she drove me home that their car rolled last night and the police had found them this morning. They tried to save them, but there was nothing left to save. They were gone long before the paramedics even made it to the scene.

I didn't know how to handle the loss. I had never even met my father's parents and my friends were all constant in my life. I hadn't even had a pet to cry over. My dad had been allergic to nearly every option out there and I was not getting a lizard. But because of that, I did the unhealthiest thing ever and just shut down.

My emotions were watery and pale when they actually bubbled to the surface. I pushed away anyone that urged me to talk. I denied any explanation to my friends even though I had always been their shoulder to cry on. I wouldn't let them do for me what I did for them every day. I knew it would probably make me snap sometime in the future, but I didn't care. I didn't need anyone if they were just going to disappear in the blink of an eye.

Gran and Gramps tried sending me to my old counselor again, but we just sat and stared at each other until my hour was up. She tried to make me talk, but all she got was the same blank face and wordless denial. My loss was my loss and no one would know the pain I felt if I could help it. It wasn't until the funeral that I even let any tears fall.

It was one of those movie perfect scenes. The rain was falling in fat drops, the sky a uniform grey and cold enough that most of the older ladies needed their jackets. I was in a black dress that flattered nothing and made me look how I felt, that is, horrible. Gran went Hollywood and dug out a black veil from her closet to match her grey blouse and black skirt. Gramps was a bit more practical in his dark blazer and matching dress pants. Everyone was in shades of black and grey, to respect the dead.

The raindrops falling down my face hid my tears and the cold air made everyone's face red whether they cried or not. Only I knew the number of times actual tears fell, not raindrops. I sprinkled dirt onto both of their caskets, my mom's and dad's. Others threw lilies, some dropped coins. By the time the preacher had finished his speech, everyone was wet, miserable and freezing.

Everyone was filing past my grandparents and me, saying their _I'm sorry_'s and _It'll be okay_'s. I was so tired of hearing those words. Everyone said they felt sorry, but sorry's wouldn't bring them back. It did nothing to hear those words ring hollow in their mouths. They didn't know the feeling of losing both parents at once. They didn't feel the giant chasm in their stomach, eating away at everything from good memories to energy.

The last young man shook my hand, his long fingers warm despite the rain. I looked up into his eyes and suppressed a gasp. His eyes were violet, not indigo-blue, but a full on, poisonous shade of purple. He smirked sadly and put his finger to his lips. I couldn't say anything anyway, struck silent by the way his purple hair dyed darker at the edges of his messy curls.

"_It's nice to see you again, Riley_," he whispered in my ear. "_Though, the circumstances aren't the best. I do sincerely apologize for Fate taking them so soon. She is a manipulative and spiteful spirit. I hope we can resume our conversation later_."

His warm hand left mine dangling in the air as he vanished around one of the large trees of the cemetery. Gran hadn't even noticed his presence, or my shock. Gramps was too busy chatting with old National Guard buddies to even catch a glimpse of the boy. I almost believed I had hallucinated the boy myself. I nearly believed my pills had stopped working, that they had expired, but there was that one fact.

I had _felt_ him. I never touched the fairies and animals as a kid, they were too wonderful to place a finger on. But I had felt this boy's warmth, felt his fingers wrap around mine. No real life boy had purple hair and violet eyes, but I had _felt_ his solidity. He was there and he whispered into my ear, I had felt his breath on my hair, warming my ear in the cold air.

Without warning, my legs started moving, going after the purple-haired boy. I chased in the direction he had went, to the north end of the cemetery, where the trees were thickest. Gran didn't notice, nor did Gramps, both stuck in conversations with some old friend or another.

My flats squelched in the wet grass, soaking my tights through to the bottom. I had lost track of the purple-haired boy two minutes ago, but I could see his footprints in the grass, further evidence to my mind that he was real and not imaginary. I followed them into the grove of trees, stepping over gravestones out of respect. I didn't need ghosts coming after me like the spirits had.

_God, listen to me. I sound like I actually think those old hallucinations were real!_ I shook the thought away with a scowl and turned near a birch tree. I nearly ran straight into him. He grabbed my hand before I could tip backwards and ruin my already horrible dress. Once more I was marveling at his tangibility. He really was real, really, truly real.

"Riley," he stated plainly. I heard a note of relief in his voice, like he believed I wouldn't follow after him. "You came."

"I did. But, who are you? You can't be one of those hallucinations. You're real, you _touched_ me." He grinned and laughed, running his hand through his hair and looking at the sky like I had said something funny.

"Hallucinations? Is that what they told you?" His eyes bored into mine, silently pleading for an answer that his relaxed face refused to beg for.

"Schizophrenia, actually. I am- was –crazy. But those are in the past. I don't see them anymore, I'm normal. So, who are you? Gran didn't notice you, or Gramps. It was like they couldn't see you." He frowned and shook his head.

"You're the only one that can see me here. Riley, I am one of those hallucinations. Those things they made you believe were nothing, they're really real. Just as real as I am. The reason they can't see us is because they aren't special like you."

"Special?" I laughed, a harsh sound coming out of my throat, considering I hadn't laughed in nearly a month. "I was sent to a shrink! I was legally diagnosed as crazy! The only thing _special_ about me is the chemical imbalance in my brain. You're just fucking with me, aren't you? You're some kid from elementary school that just wants to be a jackass." He held his hands up in front of his black blazer, a gesture of innocence.

"No! Riley, please believe me. You are a very special person, and right now we need your help." The sincerity in his voice is what made me stay instead of walking away like I had been ready to do. I suppose walking away would have been better, but hindsight is always 20/20.

"Who? You and the fairies? The spirits? Forget it. I'm finally normal, as normal as I can be. I don't _want_ to see those things again! I want a life!" The young man's face fell in despair, his eyes flashing with an emotion I couldn't identify.

"I'm sorry Riley," he mumbled.

"For what?" I asked, trying to figure out that emotion in his eyes.

"For this," he said, his fist lashing out against my head quicker than what I could have ever imagined. I was gone before I even hit the grass.

* * *

**Welcome one and all to my first Alice in Wonderland story. Now, as you can plainly see, Riley is not an Alice. She is, however, the main protagonist, so shove a cork in it. I hope you all enjoy this story as I update it sel, seldolm, seldoml, very rarely. Please be kind and review. Your thoughts are always welcome, positive or negative. I also want to tell you that this is a special story that will accept OC's! They may not show up for very long, but i want y'all to send in some Wonderlanders. The best part about being fictional beings is that they can be as weird or as plain as you want. Please send in some gems by PM. Any OC's sent into reviews will not be accepted. Form is below. **

**Name/Gender/Age (Wonderlanders can live up to a maximum of 1000 years):**

**Personality:**

**Appearance:**

**Clothes (usual day to day wear): **

**Special skills (this includes magic): **

**Day-to-day job (unemployed is an acceptable answer): **

**Background: **

**Any pets (No Cheshire cats or massive dragons): **

**Good/Neutral/Evil:**

**Other (anything you'd like to add): **


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